His Better Half
by Arvanion
Summary: They swore to be two halves of a greater whole, but Robin never quite imagined it would be like this. Written for Chrobinweek 2015. (Cross-posted from AO3.)


Chrom walked down the hall of the fort with his cape billowing behind him, obviously a man on a mission. Soldiers from the Feroxi and Ylissean armies stepped aside to clear a path and saluted as he passed. He nodded curtly to each in turn, but only a fraction of his attention was spared for them. He had more important things to think about.

 _ _"Strike while the iron is hot." That's how the saying goes, I think.__ He set his jaw. __I need to do this before I lose my nerve.__

He'd heard from Basilio that Robin was in council with Flavia, doubtless making final arrangement for accepting the Plegian surrender. He was very grateful that the two of them were handling the particulars: the memory of his sister's death was too fresh, and his enmity for the late Mad King-dead by his own hand, just a day ago-still loomed large. He didn't trust himself to put aside his personal feelings on the subject.

But Robin... Robin could. He always did. He was kind, patient, humble, intelligent, and much more level-headed than Chrom was. Which made his actions during the previous battle all the more puzzling... and made it all the more important that Chrom seek him out and talk to him.

He arrived at the door to find it closed, with two soldiers standing guard outside. Both saluted as he approached. "Your Highness."

"Is Robin within?"

"He is, though he is in council with Khan Flavia. Shall I announce you?"

"I can announce myself, thank you," said Chrom. He rapped on the door, thrice, and opened it, poking his head inside. "Good afternoon, Robin. Khan Flavia."

The Feroxi woman, leaning up against the tactician's paper-strewn desk, gave him a cheerful wave. "Afternoon, Prince. How does it feel to have won a war, huh?"

Chrom ran a hand through his hair, letting out an awkward laugh. "It'll take some getting used to, for sure." He looked over at Robin. The tactician's left arm was in a sling, but he was evidently unwilling to go without his coat: he'd draped it over his shoulders instead, wearing it like a cape. There was a distracted expression on his face, and he ran his free hand through his hair, as if mulling over a problem. The sunlight shining through the window made his white hair glow like a halo, and Chrom found himself at a momentary loss for words. He cleared his throat, but said nothing.

Robin looked up, giving Chrom a charmingly lopsided grin. "Did you want something, Chrom?"

"I'd actually hoped to speak with you alone," the prince admitted, giving Flavia an apologetic look. The khan raised her eyebrows, a small smirk coming to her lips, then shrugged.

"Hell, I think we could both use a break," she said, nodding to Robin. "It's beginning to get stuffy in here, and I'm not too fond of paperwork anyway. Let me know when you need me again." She passed Chrom on her way out, patting him on the shoulder as she did. And... __wait, did she just__ wink __at me?__

The door closed behind Flavia, and Chrom lapsed into another awkward silence. It didn't help that Robin was staring at him... that brown-eyed gaze was __far__ too distracting.

"Um, Chrom?"

"What?" said Chrom, too abruptly.

The tactician let out a long breath, rolling his eyes in amused exasperation. "You said you wanted to talk to me..."

"Oh, right." Chrom clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from fidgeting and moved closer to the desk. "How's the shoulder?"

"It's fine," said Robin. "They told me it should be back to normal in a week or two. I don't even feel like I need the sling, but Lissa says that the injury will still be tender for a bit, so it's best to keep it tied up. I can barely even move the arm." He chuckled. "But Maribelle said that she'd give me a drubbing with her parasol if I didn't follow her __darling__ Lissa's instructions to the letter."

Chrom grinned. "That sounds like her. Amazing what healing magic can do, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Robin adjusted the set of his coat around his shoulders. "I get the feeling that healing magic isn't what you came here to talk about, though."

Chrom shifted from foot to foot. "Um, right. That was just a jumping-off point. I actually wanted to ask you..." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Why did you do what you did?"

Robin looked uncomfortable. "I don't know-"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about," said Chrom, keeping a level voice. "You took a blow that was meant for me. From the Mad King himself."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Robin's gaze met his, and the tactician spoke in a soft voice. "You are a more valuable asset to the army than I am."

Chrom snorted. "Without your tactics-"

"Without your leadership, we have nothing. Nobody to rally behind. Why do you think everyone follows my orders? It's because __you__ trust me." He held up a hand to stop Chrom's building reply and gave another wry grin. "Do you really think that Frederick would follow my orders if you hadn't told him to?"

"I... suppose not," said Chrom reluctantly.

"And there you have it," said Robin, his tone just a touch too flippant. "Can't risk our leader being killed..."

"That blow wouldn't have killed me, and you know it," snapped Chrom, stung by Robin's lack of seriousness. "Hell, it might not have even __hit__ me. There was no need for you to-"

"Chrom." At the sound of his name, the prince stopped. Robin shook his head, sighing. "You... you're right. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

The prince laid his hand lightly on his tactician's uninjured shoulder. "Robin, it doesn't matter how important you think you are to the army. You're important to __me.__ "

He thought he saw the other man blush faintly. "Um... thanks, Chrom." He hurriedly turned away, moving back to the desk, ending their brief contact. "Was there something else, or...?"

 _ _Now or never.__ Chrom took a deep breath. "Robin, I... I've been thinking of getting married."

He saw the tactician's shoulders stiffen slightly under the draped coat, but Robin's voice remained even. "It's only sensible, after all."

"...yes." Now that it came down to it, he was still as tongue-tied as ever. __Damn it!__

Robin continued on, his back still turned. "When you become Exalt, one of your duties will be to ensure the succession. Falchion must always have a wielder after all." He finally turned, giving Chrom a smile... but this one was different than the others: tighter, less confident.

 _ _Pained__.

"So who's the lucky girl?" said Robin, now __much__ too casually. "Sumia? Maribelle? ...Sully?"

"I..." Chrom trailed off.

"Oh, wait!" Robin let out a loud laugh, bright, artificial. "It's the new girl, isn't it? Olivia! I should have known she'd catch your eye."

"No..."

Robin gave him a comically exaggerated frown. "Don't tell me it's some village maiden who swooned over your swordplay." His facade was beginning to crack, however, and concern began to show in his face. "Chrom? Come on, say something, you're worrying me." He forced out another laugh.

"It's..." The prince took a deep breath. "... _ _you__ , Robin."

Robin's smile froze in place, brown eyes widening in shock.

Chrom rushed on, gathering momentum, as if a floodgate had burst and everything that he'd dammed up inside was flooding out. "Robin, I know it might sound crazy to you, but over the past few months, all the time we've spent together, I've grown to... __love__ you."

"C-Chrom, I..."

"And I know. I know that it's foolish, I know that it means I might throw the succession into doubt, but... damn it, we're two halves of a greater whole!" He hurled out the words like a challenge. "I don't want anything to separate us. Never again. No matter what that means. We'll find a way to the future, together."

Robin remained silent as Chrom pulled the ring from his pouch. It sat, gleaming, on his palm, the jeweled crest of Ylisse's royal family catching the sun and deflecting it into a thousand tiny pinpricks of light. The prince stared down at it as he spoke, took embarrassed to meet the other man's eyes. "When I was given this ring, I was told to give it to the person I wanted to rule by my side. To you, Robin."

He heard an odd noise, and looked up to see Robin crying: actually crying for the first time since Emmeryn died. But at the same time, he was smiling. He spoke up, voice unsteady. "Chrom, I don't... I don't know what to say. I've always... but I never thought that..." He moved forward, suddenly, burying his face in Chrom's shoulder, laughing and crying all at once. Chrom put an arm around him, feeling the warmth against his chest, and smiled.

"I was hoping you would react like this." At Robin's tear-stained glower, he hastily backtracked. "I mean, that you'd say yes. I honestly wasn't sure."

Robin took a step back, his familiar cocky grin sliding back into place as he wiped his face with one of the hanging sleeves of his coat. "Well, it's true that I'm a bit out of your league. But I think that you're still worth it."

"So, do you want to try on the ring?" said Chrom, eagerly. He held out his hand. Robin regarded it with a somewhat bemused expression.

"You're forgetting something, Chrom." He plucked at the fabric of his sling. "How am I supposed to put on a ring with one hand?"

Chrom turned crimson. "Oh... right..." He took Robin's left hand between his own, and with a delicate touch, slid the ring onto his tactician's finger.

Or at least, he tried to. It barely got as far as the second knuckle before it stopped. Robin laughed. "It was made for a woman's hand, after all."

"Well," said Chrom, smiling as he met Robin's eyes, "anything can change."


End file.
